Cups of Coffee
by NonExistente
Summary: Rose is avoiding the Doctor. Why? Perhaps a cup of coffee will help him find out. Dedicated to Danny, one of many lives needlessly lost in Iraq. Not so fluffy 10Rose. Part 3 of the 'Cups of...' series. COMPLETE


**Title: Cups of Coffee**

**Series: 'Cups of…' Part 3**

**Rating: T**

**Date written: 21/07/07**

**A/N:**** OK. The idea for this one came to me yesterday afternoon along with 'Hot Chocolate', as me and my friend 'Padmé' (raadiish) were sitting in a Coffee House, half–but–not–really–talking about the subject of the Iraq war. Odd, I know, but… hopefully you'll understand the meaning behind this story. And so, Padmé; I dedicate this to you, and to Danny. R.I.P.**

**A/N 2:**** Also has a slight reference to 'Cups of Hot Chocolate'. You don't need to have read that before this, but you can if you want to.**

Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own it. I just like playing with the characters. : D

* * *

The Doctor strode purposefully down one of the many corridors of the TARDIS, a tray full of food balanced precariously in his arms. He smiled to himself, backing into their bedroom door.

"Rose?" he called softly into the darkened room. There was no answer. He set the tray down on one bedside cabinet, frowning. The bed was empty. So was the bathroom. He sat down for a moment, figuring that wherever she'd gone, she would be back soon.

Half an hour later, he was still sitting on the bed, picking at the toast half–heartedly; the small pot of marmalade had disappeared twenty- minutes ago. Where was she?

* * *

The Doctor frowned, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he stood in the console room. Since he'd tried to bring Rose breakfast in bed, he hadn't seen nor heard anything from her; that was five–and–a–half hours ago. Three hours ago he started to become seriously worried about Rose. Two and a half hours ago he started searching in every room he thought she could possibly be in; their bedroom, the bathrooms, her old room, the kitchen, the main living room, so many in–between rooms that were occasionally visited by his plus–one, and finally the console room, but to no avail. On a sudden brainwave he checked their current position; safely in the Vortex, so she couldn't have wandered outside. He then checked the TARDIS log, making sure that the doors hadn't been opened; nothing. Utterly confused, and more than slightly worried now, he re–checked all the rooms again, just in case. 

After a few minutes' searching, he found Rose in the library.

"Blimey Rose! I've been looking for you for ages–Rose? What's wrong?" he asked urgently, seeing her eyes slightly red and watery, and her hands trembling slightly as she held her book. She tried to smile.

"Oh, sorry. Nothing's wrong, why should it be?" he frowned, detecting a slight tremble in her voice.

"Have you … have you been crying?" he asked tentatively, moving to sit next to her on the chair. She immediately stood up, snapping the book shut and moving to replace it on the bookshelf. She shook her head, turning back to him with an altogether–fake smile.

"Where have you been? I've been looking for you for ages," the Doctor said, deciding to drop the subject.

"Oh. I've– I've just been sitting in here, reading," he nodded, not believing her. Rose swallowed, noticing the sceptical look in his eyes.

"So… where do you want to go next?" the Doctor asked warily, also standing up. Her eyes widened slightly in panic, before she looked away and shrugged. "What about your mum's? We haven't–"

"_No_! I mean, no, we don't have to visit Mum! I know how much you don't like visiting her–"

"It's all right–!"

"No, we don't have to go! Really, we – we don't," he looked at her suspiciously, putting his hands in his pockets again.

"All right…" he decided to let it lie. He took a step towards her; Rose moved to put the same distance between them. "So where _do_ you want to go?" he asked, troubled and slightly scared about the way she was acting. She didn't meet his eyes as she shrugged again.

"I… I just feel like having a few days' in," she whispered, playing with the hem of her top distractedly. The Doctor frowned, watching her closely.

"All right," he said for the third time, resignedly "Whatever you want," he tried to brighten, trying to break the awkward atmosphere. "I know! We could do a spot of gardening– some of those Vertraylian Beeterfly bushes could do with re–potting–" she shook her head quickly, starting to edge away from him. His face fell.

"No– I–I need to–to tidy my– my room," she muttered, sounding slightly choked, before leaving the library without a look back. The Doctor sighed again.

"But you don't go in there anymore," he whispered sadly to the empty room before following her out.

* * *

The Doctor couldn't find her again later; even after thinking to check the library again, but Rose wasn't to be found. As well as spending a lonely afternoon by himself, fixing the console, the Doctor was forced to eat a solitary supper and spend an isolated evening, again carrying out a few repairs on the console. 

He hoped to see Rose come bedtime; strangely enough for him, he now went to bed every night, to spend more time with her. He could tell, quite obviously, that something was upsetting her; perhaps when she came to bed, they'd be able to talk. He'd be able to hold her, soothe her, encourage her to talk to him. He completed the domestic routine of changing into his– and her– favourite pyjamas, of preparing their bed for sleep; he even lit a few scented candles to try and make her feel better. He'd learnt, a while back, that when she was upset having a dark, candle–lit, private area helped her to overcome her emotions.

But he was disappointed; the small candles burnt, and eventually flickered their last flames. His bed was empty.

* * *

In the morning, his bed was still empty and strangely cold. He dressed in forlorn silence. 

He meandered his way into the kitchen, and was surprised as he caught sight of Rose sitting silently at the kitchen table. She barely glanced up as he entered. There was silence.

"You didn't come to bed last night," he stated softly, his dark eyes taking in her pale face, tired and still watery eyes. She swallowed but didn't reply. Another pause.

"What have I done wrong?" he asked wretchedly, hoping against hope that her prolonged silence wasn't of his doing. He took a hesitant step forwards. He head snapped up, tears shining in her eyes.

"You haven't d–done anything wr–wrong!" she whispered shakily, trying to blink her tears away.

"Then why have you been avoiding me?" she took another shaky breath, clasping her hands tightly on the table–top in front of her. He moved to sit down in the chair opposite her, eyes sad and deep as he watched her, clearly in pain. A few tears trickled down her cheeks.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" he questioned softly. She didn't answer; instead, she made to stand up.

"No, no, please don't go! Rose, please talk to me!" he lunged for her hand, holding it firmly. She sighed, looking away as more tears dripped down her cheeks. He pushed his chair back, pulling her to him. He sat her down on his lap, brushing her tears away. He smiled weakly, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"What's wrong?" her lip trembled. "Come on, you can tell me can't you?" she shook her head.

"It wouldn't be f–fair to you!" she sobbed, throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He rubbed her back, confused.

"Sweetheart, what wouldn't be fair to me?"

"You– You lost your ent-tire planet, and I–I c-can't–" he frowned, letting her pull back.

"Rose. What's wrong? What's happened?" she took a few deep breaths, trying to compose herself. She looked at him from the corner of her eyes, expression raw and apologetic.

"M–My cousin– he– he w-was a medic– he w–went to h-help with the w-war– Mum– she called me y-yesterday–" she took another deep breath, more tears escaping her eyes. The Doctor rubbed her back soothingly, his own eyes becoming moist as he anticipated what had happened.

"Sh-She called me– she said… she said he was –k-killed– by a r-roadside bomb!" she choked, pushing herself away slightly. The Doctor kept her by him.

"This's why it's unf-fair for you; you lost every one of your people, and I've only l-lost my cousin! I didn't–" the Doctor placed a finger against her lips gently.

"It's still a life lost. You shouldn't have to grieve alone; I can help, can't I?" he said softly, brushing her tears away. Her lip trembled again.

"Y-You had to g-grieve by yourself," he nodded thoughtfully.

"Yes, for a while. But then you came along," he smiled at her encouragingly, seeing her eyes widen slightly. She smiled weakly, sniffing. He rubbed her back again, kissing her lips briefly.

"Come on. Let's get you a drink, then– we can talk, if you want?" she nodded.

"That'll be good, thanks," she answered shakily, trying a brighter smile. He smiled, kissing her again, pulling a handkerchief from his breast pocket. She stood up, still sniffing, as he went over to the cupboards.

"What do you want to drink, hmm?"

"Coffee. I'm knackered but– but I'm not going to be able to sleep– not now, not for a while…" he nodded sympathetically, collecting their usual mugs from the cupboard.

"Biscuits?" she nodded, chuckling slightly at his manic grin.

"Doctor, can we– can we go to the Living Room?" she asked tentatively, fiddling with the 'kerchief. He nodded furiously.

"'Course!" he smiled, placing the two cups on a tray, balancing it on one outspread palm, like a waiter, and offered his other hand. She smiled, and took it.

"Though–" Rose said thoughtfully as they neared 'their' room "– You and coffee– dreading what you're gonna be like later!" he grinned at her, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I'm sure you'll like it!" he winked at her, and she gave a first, proper giggle.

* * *

**Not my usual stuff, I know, but... as I said before, this is for Padmé and Danny. She kindly told me to definitely post this up, and that it's helped her grieve. So even if you didn't personally like it, that's ok. But if you _did_, please tell me. Thanks.**


End file.
